Chapter 6
Six
Had he slept?
Amid such danger?
As Hugh gazed down at the closed eyes of the young woman clasped in his arms, a myriad of sensations assailed him.
Overriding all was that he’d never felt such glorious happiness.
The next was the greatest dismay.
What had he done? How had he allowed such weakness? He had defiled her; taken advantage of an innocent woman when she was at her most vulnerable.
Then she blinked open her eyes, her mouth curving into a smile as she whispered, “I’m so glad it wasn’t a dream.”
“That we are in a cave, wet and freezing, and might be snuffed out by the encroaching tide?” He was too overcome by shame to soften the reality. What could he say to atone?
“No. That I’m in your arms and that you love me.” A tiny furrow appeared between her eyes which Hugh could see, even in this dim light, as she added, “Or that you have loved me.”
He was taken aback that she should put either into words, and didn’t know how to answer. Then, rolling onto her side, she raised her arm and traced his cheek with her forefinger.
“I have never met such an honourable gentleman as you, Mr Kernick. Some might say I took advantage of that—”
He nearly choked. “It is I who—”
“Not at all. I had too much brandy.” She touched the side of her head and winced. “But I drank it on purpose because I knew it was the only way I’d have the courage to act on what was in my heart.”
“And what was also in my heart, I assure you. But Miss Stanbridge, I should not have when the future is uncertain. Perilous, even.”
“Perilous, yes, Mr Kernick. We might not get out of this cave alive, but the higher ground has kept us safe, and perhaps the tide is receding.”
Hugh glanced at the entrance where the foaming water had made inroads and realised they would have no choice but to go further inside the tunnel.
“You sound as if you’re not afraid, Miss Stanbridge.” He looked about him, weighing up their options. Should they dive into the sea and attempt to return to the pony trap while the storm still raged? Or enter the tunnel and hope that he was right and that it would lead them to salvation?
“No, I’m not afraid now.” She lay on the greatcoat, staring out of the mouth of the cave.
“I live a lonely life,” she said. “For five years the only people I see, other than the family I work for, are in church. And you, Mr Kernick. Just now, you gave me what I wanted.” Glancing at the white foam, she drew up her knees, shivering.
“I don’t want to die, but I’ve escaped the fate that has frightened me most in the midst of every terrifying storm I’ve lived through: to die alone. Without knowing love.”
Hugh leaned over over and held her close.
She spoke of deliverance at his hands, but wasn’t it the other way around?
He could well have imagined growing older, never having had the courage to speak of what he really felt.
They stared down at the water lapping near their feet. “We must retreat.” He rose, taking her hand and drawing her up. “We must go further into the tunnel.”
“First, I must remove my sodden chemise and put on that dry greatcoat.”
A sparkle caught Hugh’s eye, and he bent to retrieve the bracelet that had fallen from her wrist.
“It’s yours,” she said when he tried to give it to her. “A memory of what just happened between us. Take it and know that everything that was in my power to give was given freely.”
Then, trustingly, she followed him into the dark, their shadows entwined as the faint flame of the lantern danced off the rough-hewn walls.
Hugh had to concede that he’d miscalculated by bringing Charlotte down the cliff side. As a child, he’d traversed the steep drops like a mountain goat and explored the tunnels with no fear.
But everything was different now.
What had he been thinking?
Had the faint hope been lurking in the back of his mind that this would happen?
This?
Suddenly, she’d erupted into the embodiment of his every desire, and he’d succumbed like an undisciplined schoolboy.
Had his selfishness been at the root of the immediate trouble they now faced?
And what about that beyond the immediate?
She was saying something as she followed him. Questioning him. And all Hugh could dwell on were the ramifications of what he’d done.
Done with such reckless abandon, even though he’d so fiercely tried to rein in his impulses, knowing what was at stake: his entire future.
Her future.
How could he in good conscience leave her to her fate?
How could he call himself a gentleman if he continued as if the last hour had never happened?
“When you’re with me, Hugh, I’m not afraid—”
Their shadows bounced wildly across the walls, but to Hugh’s relief the earth seemed to rise upwards. Just as he’d remembered from all those years ago.
The sound of the sea crashing into the cave entrance receded, and Hugh relaxed a little. The rock floor seemed dry. Perhaps the tide rarely made it this far, and they would be safe.
Cautiously, they went deeper until Charlotte’s gasp caused him to jerk his head around and follow the direction of her gaze.
A small cavern to their right opened up from the tunnel they trod. Yes, he remembered it well, and he realised how easily they might have missed it.
To his astonishment, a wooden barrel banded with iron and studs and three squat chests lined the walls.
When Hugh had been a boy, he’d only ever seen this cavern empty. In all the years he’d heard whispers about smugglers, he’d never seen evidence.
“No, Charlotte!”
She’d taken a few steps away from him and now knelt, tugging on the lock until Hugh cautioned her.
“We can’t have anything to do with this! If this is what it looks like it is—smuggling—we can’t afford to run foul of the men involved in this trade.”
Charlotte rose obediently, then tapped the barrel. “What could be in here?” she asked. “Why is it hidden in these caves?”
“You’ve heard about smugglers?”
“There’s been no smuggling for years,” she said, as if she truly believed it.
Then, seeing his look, her mouth dropped open.
“Who profits? How dangerous is it?” She hesitated, then a sudden idea appeared to take hold.
She ran her hands over the smooth wood of the barrel, pausing when her fingers encountered the spigot.
“Is there something in here that could help us, Hugh?”
“It’s brandy, Charlotte.” His smile was wry. “We’ve both had far too much of that already. Besides, it belongs to the smugglers—”
“The smugglers?” She looked combative. “But they are ill-gotten gains, Hugh. They no more belong to the smugglers than they do to you? They stole all this.” She made a sweeping gesture with one arm. “Will you just turn a blind eye?”
“What would you have me do? Tell my employer? What do you think Sir Pennyworth would do? He’s the magistrate. He’d need to discover who was at the root of all this… evil. No, I would not bring that down upon the men with whom I once explored these very caves.”
“Are you suggesting everyone in Swain Cove is involved—except you and me?”
“I’d wager a fair few are.” He hoped she’d heed the gravity of his tone as he added, “And it’s best we keep right out of it.” He reached for her hand just as she did an experimental turn of the spigot and a burst of golden liquid gushed from the barrel.
“Come, Charlotte!” he said, suddenly anxious. “Turn it off.”
“Who would harm us, Hugh? The villagers? It’s stolen goods. Contraband. It doesn’t belong to anyone in Swain Cove. It’s wrong to have it here.”
“It doesn’t belong to us, either. And this is neither a means of providing us with a future or something in which we should meddle if you disapprove. Turn it off, Charlotte.”
He reached across to do so himself, but she blocked his way and cupped her hands before the stream. “To ward off the cold and give me courage,” she said with an impish smile, before drinking deeply.
“Stop, Charlotte! More likely, it’s a quick way to being snuffed out.
” He needed to make this very clear. Hugh might be Sir Pennyworth’s tutor, but he knew enough of the law, and Sir Pennyworth’s clients, to know that the prospect of riches brought out the worst in men.
And, whether by fair means or foul, that brandy barrel belonged to someone.
“Believe me, Charlotte, those who profit from bounty like this will smile at you in the street but just as readily slice your throat if you get in the way of what they believe is a justified trade. Now, please, you haven’t turned off the spigot properly. ”
He waited while she fumbled with the stop-cock, but then she gave a cry and leapt aside as a foaming slew of water swept into the cavern.
Hugh steadied her while he cast about for escape, cursing himself for his misjudgement. He’d been certain the tide had turned and was ebbing rather than coming in.
“Hugh!” she screamed, clinging to his arm. “Where do we go now?”
He did not know. But then, through the faint light thrown by his lantern, at the far end of the cavern, he caught sight of something that fuelled a surge of hope.
Of course! He should have remembered it from his boyhood days.
“Steps, Hugh!” She saw them, too. “We can climb out of here?”
Sloshing through the water, they ran towards the wall with its promise of escape.
But would there be an opening above they could access? Or would the trapdoor be securely latched from the other side?
“I’ll go first,” he said, letting go of her hand and handing her the lantern. “Step up out of the water and shine the light. I’ll try to open the trapdoor.” He gripped the grooves and struggled up, for the steps were slippery and the light did not extend far.
“Charlotte! There’s an exit!” he called. “And it’s not secured.”
Lightheaded with relief, he reached down, gripped her wrist, and hauled her up with him.
But as they stepped into what he thought was an empty storage room, he realised, with prickling awareness, that they were not alone.